"Have you any demands, dear heart? Should I call for toast?" There was no edge to the words; it might almost have been teasing, if he were not so drained.
Sarah gave him a surprised look - both about the fact that been the very thing she had first wanted to fuss about and that he was giving her an opening to do it - and then nodded, not passing up the chance to possibly get him to eat. "Yes, please, toast... with better jam this time," she said as smiled just slightly.
"Very well." He called the house-elf and gave strict instructions as to which sorts of jam were and were not expected. "He wants to know if you like the kind with raspberries," Stephen said to Sarah, in answer to a hiss from the house-elf.
Sarah listened silently as Stephen spoke to the house-elf, using the time he was occupied to observe him more closely. It was painful to see him like this and know it would not be a look that would go away for a long time, which made her all the more eager to want to do anything she could. Toast was definitely a good start, though she did wonder how to get the rest of the food groups in him.
"Raspberries are just fine," she said, offering the house-elf a smile. Poor thing, it was so overworked between letter-bearing and toast-fetching. At least she could cross fruit off the list.
Stephen sent the house-elf on its way. He turned to a sort of bulky collection of something under a large dusty white sheet; this, when he removed the sheet, proved to be a smallish table and two chairs. He pulled one chair out for Sarah. "See, this place has not been much used of late," he apologised. Indeed the only furniture that seemed to have been used lately at all was the bed -- rumpled yet made, as though someone had been sleeping atop the covers -- and an armoire whose doors hung open, revealing an almost empty interior.
Sarah gave him a surprised look - both about the fact that been the very thing she had first wanted to fuss about and that he was giving her an opening to do it - and then nodded, not passing up the chance to possibly get him to eat. "Yes, please, toast... with better jam this time," she said as smiled just slightly.
"Very well." He called the house-elf and gave strict instructions as to which sorts of jam were and were not expected. "He wants to know if you like the kind with raspberries," Stephen said to Sarah, in answer to a hiss from the house-elf.
Sarah listened silently as Stephen spoke to the house-elf, using the time he was occupied to observe him more closely. It was painful to see him like this and know it would not be a look that would go away for a long time, which made her all the more eager to want to do anything she could. Toast was definitely a good start, though she did wonder how to get the rest of the food groups in him.
"Raspberries are just fine," she said, offering the house-elf a smile. Poor thing, it was so overworked between letter-bearing and toast-fetching. At least she could cross fruit off the list.
Stephen sent the house-elf on its way. He turned to a sort of bulky collection of something under a large dusty white sheet; this, when he removed the sheet, proved to be a smallish table and two chairs. He pulled one chair out for Sarah. "See, this place has not been much used of late," he apologised. Indeed the only furniture that seemed to have been used lately at all was the bed -- rumpled yet made, as though someone had been sleeping atop the covers -- and an armoire whose doors hung open, revealing an almost empty interior.
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